Chemistry After Math
by tabbi
Summary: Greg. Just some ideas that were wandering around looking for something to do.


Chemistry After Math

Rated G

Disclaimer:  This is based on CSI, which is owned by CBS, A. Zuiker, and Atlantic/Alliance, et al.  I don't make any profit or make any money from this.  No infringement is intended.  This is just for fun.

Synopsis:  A few days glimpse at what Greg does when he's not at the lab.

Notes:  This was just something that I had to get out of my system.  Most of the scenes have been rattling around in my head for a few weeks looking for a home.  It's just a bit of filler..... enjoy.

MUCH THANKS TO ALL WHO R/R

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September 10th, 1999

            There was a tentative knock at the door.  Greg lowered the volume on the stereo and opened the door.  A short blonde stood there.  He flashed an affable smile at her.

            "Mr. Sanders?"

            Greg wasn't sure if she doubted his sanity or his identity more.

            "You must be Heather."  Greg grinned, as he gestured towards an empty table.  "Come in; and you can call me Greg."

            His job at the crime lab paid well enough, so he hadn't really needed the money, but Ruby had seemed distressed by her daughter's class load; so Greg had offered to share his love of chemistry.  Heather was short, but athletically built.  Her hair was a brown gold blonde, bleached by the hot Nevada sun.  She looked like she belonged in California on a beach somewhere.  Heather dropped a bag of books with a thump, glancing around.

            "Nice place."  she said.  "And you can call me Junior."

            The curiosity must have been evident on Greg's face because she gave him a self-depreciating smile and continued.  "My grandmother's name was Heather, too; we lived with her before moving to Vegas.  People have always called me Junior.  I always feel like I'm in trouble when someone calls me Heather."

            She shrugged. "Glad to see someone shares my tastes in clothes."

            She wore a pair of overlong surfer shorts, black in color.  Her white t-shirt was covered by a loud red Hawaiian print shirt with bright blue surfboards and neon green palm trees.  Greg had thrown on a loud orange shirt adorned with eye hurting pink and blue hibiscus.  It screamed in sharp contrast to the faded khakis and black tank he wore underneath.

May 22nd, 2000

            Half-asleep and cursing the insistent knocking at the door, Greg stumbled through the maze of eclectic furniture that sat in the living room.  Hair uncombed, rumpled clothes from the previous evening's shift, and awake enough to get one eye half open, Greg hoped whoever it was would give up and he could drop onto the couch for another hour of sleep before he needed to get ready for work.

            "What?"  groaned Greg, leaning against the doorjamb to look out of the inch or so he'd managed to open the door.

            "Gee, Sanders, you look like hell."

            "Whaddaya want, Junior?"  Greg closed his eyes again.  
            "I got my test scores back."  Junior leaned against the outside of the door.  "I was hoping to go to Crispy Custard and celebrate, but it can wait."

            Greg sighed.  He wasn't obligated to her in any way; but somehow he felt responsible. "Come in, I should get up and eat anyway."

            Forty five minutes later they sat in a fast food restaurant, discussing surfing.

            "Oh, man, do I miss the ocean."  said Junior stealing one of Greg's fries.  "I can't wait until school is over and I can go visit Uncle Charlie for a week.  I'm gonna surf every day sunrise to sunset.   I can't wait."

            Greg laughed.  "So you're excited?"

            Junior stuck her tongue out at him.  "I can't believe I aced the Chem final.  No one ever does that well on one of Mr. Currie's tests."

            "You studied and you're pretty good at Chemistry."  Greg shrugged.  "Why not?"  
            "I had a good teacher."  She grinned at him.  "Guess what?"

            "Oh no!  What did you do now?"

            "I talked to Dr. Chido, the head of the science department and Dr. Robinson at the college and they say as long as I keep my grades up I can keep up my dual enrollment."

            "Good for you, Junior."  Greg returned her grin.  "Thought of a major yet?"

            "Chemistry, what else?"

            Greg rolled his eyes.  "Good lord!  I've created a monster."

            "Yes, you have Dr. Frankenstein."  She stole another fry and stuffed it in her mouth.

            "So why Chemistry?"  asked Greg finishing his cheeseburger.

            Junior took a long thoughtful gulp of her chocolate milkshake.  "Do you want the truth or what I told my mother?"

            "What's the difference?"

            She heaved a melancholy sigh before answering.  "My mom isn't ready for the truth yet.  When my dad died she took it hard.  They were really in love; like Romeo and Juliet, and his death devastated her.  She couldn't take care of herself, much less me.  That's why we moved in with my grandmother.  I've always wished I could have changed what happened."

            "Your father was a fire fighter wasn't he?"

            Junior nodded.  "He died at a chemical fire.  They lost half the company, before back up arrived."

            "So what did you tell your mom?"

            "That I thought your job was interesting and maybe I would become a forensic chemist."

            Greg nodded.  "But..."

            "But the truth is, I'd really like to work for a chemical company developing fire suppression technology."  Junior looked at him.  "That's kinda hokey and stupid isn't it?"

            Greg shook his head.  "No, it's not.  You can't change the past so you want to find a way to prevent it from happening to others."  He smiled at her.  "Sometimes I think that's one of the reasons I got into forensics."

            "Speaking of which.... hadn't you better get going?"

January 21st, 2002

            "Hey, looks like you guys caught another nutter."

            Greg looked at Junior nonplused.  "Which one?"

            "The bathtub suicide guy."  Greg nodded as Junior continued.  "Paper said he had some kind of vendetta against one of your colleagues."

            Greg shrugged as he answered.  "I don't know the whole story but he was playing mind games with Grissom."

            "Kinda scary."  Junior shuddered.  "What if he came to the crime lab looking to get even?"

            Greg laughed.  "Well, Milander won't come looking for anyone; he's deceased."

            "But do you every worry about some megalomaniac wanting revenge and blowing up the lab?"

            "No Junior I don't."  Greg sat beside her and gave her a serious look.  "And you shouldn't either.  You need to concentrate on your studies.  I have a fairly safe, innocuous job and worrying about what some lunatic might do won't help either of us."

March 30th, 2002

            "So what's wrong with you today?"

            Greg looked at Junior with a raised eyebrow.  "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

            "I may not be an anthropologist but I do watch people."  Junior frowned at him with concern.  "You aren't all here today.  You haven't even gloated once that my beloved Lakers lost."

            "Sorry."  Greg sighed.  "I was in the field last night and I lost it.  I saw blood and freaked out."

            "Good.  I like you the way you are.  I bet the people you work with are pretty jaded.  Stuff like that wears at you.  Besides," She patted his shoulder.  "I'm sure those investigators all have something that still creeps them out from time to time... that's what makes us human."

May 12th, 2003

            Greg moaned as a muscle spasm sent sparks of pain across his aching body.  It felt like his entire body was on fire.  Sleep ebbed and flowed on waves of pain and medication.  It was high tide for pain and what little sleep he had managed was fraught with nightmares of the explosion.  Greg drew a sharp breath as another surge of pain crashed over him.  He forced his eyes open enough to search for the call button.  Beside the bed, curled up in a chair was Junior.

            "What are you doing here, Heather?"  Greg croaked.

            Junior gave him a half smile.  "Studying."

            "You shouldn't be here."  Greg reached for the call switch immediately regretting it, as the movement set every nerve aflame again.

            Junior reached over and pushed the button for him.

            "Why not?"  she asked, settling back into the chair again.  "I don't have to be in school, however, all my friends are.  My finals are finished as of this morning.  The CLAST is Saturday, so I'm studying.  High school graduation will be on Tuesday and the other ceremony is Wednesday afternoon."

            Greg scowled at her triumphant grin as the nurse entered the room.

            "How are we feeling Mr. Sanders?"  asked the nurse.

            "Like I fell off the top of the Luxor."  moaned Greg.

            The nurse held up a needle measuring something into the syringe.  She injected into the intravenous fluids and watched it flow through the IV tubes into Greg's arm.

            "That should help with the pain.  Lunch will be served in an hour."  The nurse smiled at Junior.  "He'll probably fall asleep again."

            Junior nodded.  "He probably needs it, but I told my mom that I would sit with him for a couple of hours."

            The nurse smiled.  "You've got a sweet little sister there, Mr. Sanders."

            "Great!"   sighed Greg, as the nurse disappeared down the hall.  "Just what I need; people thinking you're my little sister.  You'd be insufferable."  
            "I could correct her."  Junior grinned.  "No, ma'am he's my hero; I want to be just like him, if I grow up!"

            Greg rolled his eyes in mock despair.  "Junior, you don't need to sit with me.  Really, I'll be fine."

            "I know." admitted Junior softly.  "I couldn't study at home.  I was worried about you."

            "I'm okay."

            "Did they figure out how it happened?"

            "A hot plate was left on under the fume hood."  Greg paused.  Catherine had been by the night before to tell him.  He wasn't sure how he felt about what had happened.  "Something exploded."

            Junior rested her chin on the edge of the bed, studying Greg with a somber look.

            "You're really lucky, Sanders."  she whispered.

            "I know."

            Her eyes were shiny with tears.  "Really lucky.  Between the electronics and flammable chemicals in your lab, the whole building could have gone up."

            Greg sighed.  Junior had a brilliant scientific mind, but, like Greg she often let her imagination run wild.

            "It didn't junior."  Greg patted her shoulder weakly.  "I just need some sleep."

            "I'm glad you're ok.  I'm gonna go meet Matt and Tika in a little while."  She reached over and put the call button into his hand. "Take care of yourself, Greg."


End file.
